


Diplomacy

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 05:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13944321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: James is tasked with giving a visiting diplomat a tour of the Citadel. He's unimpressed with the babysitting duty, until he sees who he's been paired up with. Cue James giving Bull the /real/ tour of the Citadel.Set pre-Inquisition and post-ME3.





	Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [undertheteacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertheteacup/gifts).



> *Cullen voice* This is ridiculous.

The only intel on James’ new mission is where he needs to be (Presidium), when he needs to be there (two days’ time), and what he needs to wear (dress blues). Can’t be death defying then. The dress blues have him sweating though. That can’t be good. Still, he makes sure his uniform is in order and his boots are polished. On the day, he shaves and puts on extra heavy duty deodorant. He stands in front of the mirror and once he’s pinned all his medals to his coat, he’s looking ready, even if he isn’t feeling it. Pre-mission jitters, that’s all. Always the same.

Up at the Presidium, he’s called through into a fancy waiting room and he sees who else is waiting. He deciphers the uniforms, epaulettes, medals. An asari commando, a salarian STG check, a Turian spec-ops. So, all ranked more or less the same as N7. Badasses. And there’s nothing he can see that needs blowing up, infiltrating, stealing, or that otherwise needs a subtle but firm hand.

A Council lackey smiles with his teeth as he hands James a datapad. “Your orders, sir.”

James thanks him and waits for him to scuttle away before looking at the pad. Confidential, classified, blah blah. He skips to the meat of the mission. ... _escorting the visiting dignitary around the Citadel in such a way as to promote the Citadel and the Council space in a positive and interesting way…_

James’ heart sinks. Babysitting. He’s gotten all dressed up to do a round of babysitting. Great. He looks around at the other elite soldiers of the galaxy and sees similar expressions. May as well suck it up. He takes a look at the dossiers of the visitors. Oh, shit, this might actually be more interesting than he thought. The guys from Thedas. He’s been following the reports coming from the other side. They’ve been publicly acknowledged for a while now, but James’ been following the classified reports, as interested as everyone else on who the new aliens are and where, exactly, in the universe their galaxy or planet, or whatever it is, is. And now he gets to meet some of them? Cool, yeah, he can go with that. There’s four dossiers and looking around, yeah, there are four escorts.

Queen Anora Theirin (human). Briala (elf). Sereda Aeducan (dwarf). The Iron Bull (qunari). So, one of each of Thedas’ advanced species. James skims the blurbs, figures they’ll all be elaborated on during some boring introductory speech by Councillor Holira anyway. They’re all interesting looking in their own ways. The Iron Bull catches James’ eye. Dude’s big. And he has horns? Maybe he’ll get lucky and he’ll get to babysit this Iron Bull.

James blows out a sigh and goes to get a coffee. He’s making small talk with Vonissha, the Asari, when Councillor Holira clears her throat. “Hello? Everyone? Please gather around?” Yeah, she’s not the best public speaker. Talks like she’s asking questions all the damn time, but she’s got a reputation for getting shit done, so James likes her enough to not be rude.

The visitors appear from a side door and are introduced. The Iron Bull draws James’ attention immediately. He can’t be missed. He is _tall_ and _broad_. Like, Krogan big, but human shaped. Except for the horns. Holy hell, _the horns_. James catches himself and glances away, only he might have just made eye contact with the Iron Bull instead. Shit.

Councillor Holira makes her introductions, makes a few jokes, which everyone politely laughs at, and then gets down to the business of pairing everyone up.

The asari commando gets Briala. The STG guy gets Queen Anora. The turian gets Aeducan (that just seems cruel). And, yes, James has been assigned the Iron Bull. He tries to suppress his grin but fails, so he hides it in a cough. Everyone steps forward to claim their partner. James sticks his hand out and the Iron Bull takes it, huge and warm, and gives a firm handshake. His smile is broad. He has an eyepatch that covers the eye but not a number of deep scars. He’s wearing a dark green shirt that doesn’t look quite right on him, and big billowy green and red striped trousers. A thick leather belt separates the two and there’s some interesting detail on the leather but James doesn’t want to be caught staring at the visitor’s crotch region, so he keeps his eyes up, only they keep drifting higher to take in those horns.

“Nice rack, huh?” the Iron Bull says. He’s got a deep voice, like the words are rumbling out from his chest.

James blinks. His brain does a double take as he parses the Iron Bull’s words. “Yeah, real nice.” Then he remembers who he is and where he is. “I’m Commander James Vega. Systems Alliance.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Commander James Vega. I’m the Iron Bull, captain of Bull’s Chargers mercenary company.”

“Merc, huh? Guns for hire.” James tries to hide his true feelings on what he thinks of mercenaries. Maybe it’s different in Thedas. He looks around at the other pairs. They’re all making small talk. Vonissha laughs loud. It’s forced and fake. James is suddenly too hot. He pulls at his collar. “Shall we get this show on the road?”

“May as well.”

The Iron Bull follows James as he leads them out of the council chambers and into the Presidium proper. He pauses at the lake. “So this one of the Presidium lakes. Functionally, they’re reservoirs, but they’re also pretty, I guess. And before you ask, no, there are no fish in them.”

The Iron Bull nods, asks a polite follow up question, which James is surprised to find himself able to answer. Maybe he knows more about the Citadel than just where to get a drunk tattoo at three in the morning cycle.

He leads them to the next destination and rattles off the official spiel from his omnitool. He’s acutely aware of how big the Iron Bull is, and how uncomfortably attracted he is to this guy he’s only just met. Not often James gets to hang out with someone bigger than him. He plays it cool, but in doing so, he knows he’s coming across as interesting as a brick. He tests the field, cracks a joke or two, and yeah, maybe he flirts a bit. But after a couple of hours of this, his feet hurt and back aches. He finishes his read out for the impressive docking station and looks up at the Iron Bull. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I'm kinda bored. You want me to give you the _real_ tour?”

The Iron Bull grins from ear to ear. “Fuck yes. You got anywhere we can eat?”

James laughs. “Yeah, no problem.” He tells the Iron Bull all about his favourite places as they walk. There’s a little noodle shop in Zakera ward, run by ex-pat Singaporeans. Makes the best laksa in the entire galaxy. And there’s a vegetarian cafe owned by an Asari couple that make these leaf-wrapped burrito things. And some weird krogan place where everything on the menu is some kind of meat or insect, or… something. James isn’t entirely sure what he’s eating most of the time when he goes there but it tastes so damn good he doesn’t care. The Iron Bull wants to try all of it. The vegetarian place is closest, so they head there, and James asks the Iron Bull about the food in Thedas as they walk.

“Depends where you go. Fereldan food tastes like it’s been boiled in mud for three days. Orlais can’t do subtle to save its life. The Free Marches all argue about who thought to put an apple in the pig’s mouth first, but none of them know how to roast one properly. You want good food, you go north. Rivain has the freshest fish and seafood. Antiva is bold, but not ostentatious like Orlais. Say what you will about Tevinter’s politics, but their wine is _perfect_. But if you want the best food in Thedas, you go to Par Vollen. That’s where I’m from. We like it hot. Spicy.” He smacks his lips and moans. Then he looks at James. “Uh, that’s the unofficial version. I’m supposed to be an ambassador so ignore all the negatives. Peace and harmony and all that crap”

James smiles. “Yeah, me too. Everyone all holds hands and sings, right? That’s why I’m an elite super soldier.”

The Iron Bull laughs and slaps James on the back. It’s electric. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” James stops in front of the cafe. “Here we are.”

Aifnea’s standing at the counter and waves James over. The two tease each other about how it’s been too long and how old James is looking now and who is James’ fancy new man friend, then? James introduces the Iron Bull and then the Iron Bull and Aifnea tease each other like he's been a regular for years. Aifnea tells them to take a seat.

“You know, I think I like this place,” the Iron Bull says.

“There’re plenty of places I can take you to dispel the fantasy,” James replies.

“Let me bask in the illusion for a while longer.”

Aifnea brings out a pile of food. More than they can eat, surely. But the Iron Bull goes for it, picking up forkfuls of rice and kale, little wrapped filos, fried bean curd, asking what each one is before he eats it all up. James struggles to keep up, talking and eating at the same time.

“What kind of missions do you get sent on?” the Iron Bull asks partway through the meal.

James chews and swallows. “You know.” He waves his hand.

The Iron Bull nods. “Secret, huh? Don't worry. You don't have to tell me the details. I'm just nosy.”

James is grateful for the reprieve. “You?” he asks, and he's not just being polite. Maybe they can swap war stories, ones that aren't classified.

“I'm a spy.”

James almost chokes on his sushi. “Come again?”

“Yeah, I know what you're thinking. What kind of spy just comes right out and says he's a spy?” The Iron Bull pauses to shove more food in his mouth. He chews and talks at the same time. “I figure you’d figure it out eventually, so why hide it? I was close by when your people first came through. Made my reports back home and they said I should keep an eye on you people, but I’ve only got one eye so when the opportunity came up to send people through, I volunteered.”

“Wait. So. Huh.” James scratches his chin, putting it all together. “Do the others--Queen whatever and them--know you’re a spy?”

The Iron Bull grins. “No. They think I’m a qunari who deserted his people. I’ve got a good reputation as a merc. Didn’t take much to convince them to let me in on this.”

“You’re one sneaky bastard.”

“I know, right? When you’re this big, it pays to hide in plain sight.”

Their plates are almost empty, but James’ interest is piqued. He wants to know more about who the Iron Bull’s people are, how he operates, how he’s so… out there. He suggests they wander to another eatery and continue the conversation. The Iron Bull agrees, so off they go. Aifnea sends them off with a little cake thing and James promises to come back real soon.

Next stop, the Krogan meat barn. They get a platter of fried… something, and jugs of light krogan beer. It’s only when the drinks are plonked in front of them that James realises they probably shouldn’t be drinking on duty. Eh, too late now. He teaches the Iron Bull a toast and they tuck in. It’s good shit, whatever it is, and the Iron Bull’s conversation is even better. He tells James all about his people, the qunari, and how they fit in within the rest of Thedas’ cultural politics. The qunari sound a little out there, political and religious zealots, and he knows he’s only getting one side, though the Iron Bull says he’s trying to be as objective as he can be. When he gets to telling James that qunari don’t have names, only ranks, or roles, James frowns.

“So what’s the deal with your name?” he asks. He shoves a mouthful of roasted meats into his mouth. Damn, no one does barbeque like the krogan.

The Iron Bull smiles, almost wistfully, James thinks. “I chose it for myself. A reminder of who I am. You see, I really like hitting things and with the article, I'm just this mindless weapon.”

“You don't do yourself much credit, then.”

“Flatterer.” There's something about the way the Iron Bull says it that makes James cheeks heat up. “If it makes it easier for you, you can just call me Bull.”

“Nah, man. If your name is the Iron Bull then that's what I'm gonna call you, even if it’s pretentious.”

The Iron Bull laughs, deep, from him belly. It's a good laugh. “Call me Bull. I'm not going to be hitting things while I'm here so I don't need the reminder.”

“Hey, if you want to hit things, I got a place I can take you.”

They finish up and James pays, tipping generously as always, and takes Bull to the Armax arena.

James cobbles together armour for Bull, helps him get into it, then suits himself up, changing out of his dress blues first. Bull’s used to armour, but it’s his first time using a firearm. James runs him through the basics. Pistols, heavy pistols, assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles, claymores, rocket launchers. “They’re all variations on things that go bang,” James explains.

He arms himself with a trusty M-7 Lancer, and gives Bull an M-15 Vindicator, then he launches a simulation and with a lurch, they’re dropped into a dense rainforest.

“Reminds me of a place back home,” Bull says.

Bull picks it up fast and after a few close calls, they’re beating the sim-enemy, then after another round, they’re smashing them. James tweaks the difficulty up but Bull still pulls his own weight. Damn, he’s got some good tactics, too. They work well together, complement each other's combat style. Makes James want to bring Bull along on his N7 missions, he’s that good.

They swap out their weapons and Bull goes for the rocket launcher. It’s not a subtle weapon. It has no finesse, no delicacy, but Bull somehow wields it gracefully. They clear out the arena and pretty soon they’re sweaty and tired, and yeah, hungry again. James pats himself down the best he can before putting his blues back on. He can’t help but notice that Bull doesn’t bother with the green shirt. He just goes topless, tucking the shirt into a pocket of his voluminous pants. He’s got a leather harness around his shoulder with more of that ornate detail carved in. He rolls his shoulder like it aches.

“That was good,” Bull says. “You guys know how to fight. Well disciplined. Tactical.”

A little voice reminds James that Bull’s a spy and has probably filed all this intel away. He tells the voice to shut up and turns to Bull. “More food?”

“Hell yeah.”

James grins at the way Bull’s picked up the local idioms.

They go deeper into the wards, where the _real_ people are.

Food leads to drinks. Only one place worth drinking around here and that’s Purgatory. Bull attracts some attention, but he works the crowd well. Then the drinks leads to dancing. Bull can _dance_. The beat is fast, lights low, except for flickering pinks and purples coming from the ceiling. It’s like they’re the only two people in the galaxy. Bull's all up in James space, their bodies close, breath mingling with the hot air, and James is pretty sure Bull’s not just doing the dance of his people. Anyway, James grinds back, hands skimming Bull’s arms, shoulders, gripping his hips and he is _into_ this. He doesn’t care that his dress blues are gonna be sweat-soaked and creased. Right now, he just wants more of Bull. He wants all of him, and from Bull’s hands squeezing James’ ass, he’s pretty sure Bull wants him, too.

Then there’s a bright orange flash. James’ omnitool. He pushes Bull back and his stomach drops to the floor when he sees who’s calling. Councillor Holira. He strides to a corner of the club and takes the call.

“Councillor Holira, Commander Vega here.”

“Commander, where are you? You and the Iron Bull were due back an hour ago.” She looks pissed.

Uh oh. “Sorry, we uh, we got carried away with the tour.”

“Are you _in a club_?” Now she looks apoplectic.

No point lying. He’s gonna have his ass handed to him no matter what happens. “Yes, ma’am.”

“By the goddess,” she mutters, but James can barely hear her. “You get back to the chambers _right now_.”

“Yes, ma’am.” But she’s already hung up on him. James wanders over to Bull, heart in his stomach.

“We in trouble?” Bull asks.

James replies with a long sigh. They take rapid transport back to the Presidium and James uses the time to try and get his uniform in order. He just hopes the alcohol has evaporated from their breaths.

Councillor Holira is standing there when the transport opens, arms folded, scowl etched like it’s in stone. She’s the only one here. The chambers look huge when they’re so empty. She glances from Bull to James, looks like she realises she can’t give James a dressing down with the honoured guest by his side. Bull has his hands out in a gesture of apology. Holira looks him up and down and James realises that Bull hasn’t put his shirt back on. In the harsh light of the chambers, his skin still shines with sweat. James brings his hands in front and wills his semi back down.

“I’m sorry, Councillor Holira,” Bull says. “This is all my fault. I asked Commander Vega to show me more than what was on our schedule. I can assure you, he has been nothing but professional. He’s a real asset to humanity. You should be proud.”

Holira twists her lips at that and glares at James. She puts on a sweet smile for Bull and thanks him for being so understanding. “Now, may I show you to your quarters, the Iron Bull?”

Shit, they’re all staying the night? A thousand fantasies run through James’ head at once but he swallows them all down. Then again… “Ma’am, it’s late. If you ping me the coordinates and lock settings, I can escort Bull--Captain the Iron Bull--to his quarters.”

Holira narrows here eyes at James. Then she huffs a sigh and brings up her omni. “Thank you for your assistance, Commander.”

James nods her goodbye and she turns on her heel. He looks at the address. Not far. Must be guest quarters. He and Bull walk with a chaste amount of space between them though James is itching to bump Bull’s shoulder or brush their hands together. The place isn’t much on the outside. Just a white door set into a white wall. He puts in the code, conscious of how Bull looms over his shoulder, watching. The door slides open. Holy hell, what an apartment. Even from here James can tell it’s for VIPs. He steps aside and lets Bull in.

“You coming?” Bull asks. He’s smirking, and he holds James’ eye, not paying any attention to the gold fittings and real wood panelling.

James looks behind him, then follows. The door slides shut and lock cycles red. James looks up at Bull. Fuck, he’s hot. Real hot. Those horns, man, James just wants to hang off them.

Then Bull steps forward, right into James’ space, and puts his hands on James’ waist. “Where were we,” he murmurs, as he dips his head to kiss James’ neck.

Shit. Is this really happening? Is James gonna fuck an alien? Bull pulls back. His eye is blown and yeah, he’s hard against James. James gulps.

“You want to keep going?” Bull asks.

James’ mouth is dry. His uniform is too tight. He’s trying to think of reasons to say no but he can only say, “Fuck, yes.” And Bull is on him, kissing him hard. James pushes back, kisses back. He reaches up and grabs one of those horns. It’s rough against his palm, dry. He uses it to angle Bull’s head, get him where he wants him, hold him in place, but Bull is strong and pulls away. James loses his grip.

“Let’s get you out of this,” Bull says, and starts untucking James’ uniform.

A moment of clarity hits James as bright as day. “Wait, stop!” Bull pauses, steps back. “Uniform’s expensive.” He _wants_ Bull to rip it right off him. Wants him to pop those buttons and chains, but he’s also got to wear this thing tomorrow.

Bull smiles, soft, and steps back into James’ space. His hands go to the chain on James’ jacket and he unhooks it carefully. He undoes each button, his massive fingers as gentle as anything, and slowly peels James out of his uniform. The delicacy after such a rough start sends shivers up James’ spine. Bull goes to James’ belt, unbuckles it, pops the button on his fly and eases the zip down, too. His pants hang loose on his hips, fall further when Bull puts his hand in to cup James’ balls.

“Fuck,” James whispers. His eyes drift closed. He snaps them open, not wanting to miss anything. Bull works James’ briefs down and takes his cock in hand. Bull's hand is rough, like his horns. Callouses rub over James' smooth cock, making James shiver. He manages not to whimper. Bull surrounds him. He’s all Bull can see, all he can feel. James has to look up to meet his eye. It’s pale green, almost grey. He has crows feet and scars and damn if he isn’t the most gorgeous person James has ever seen. “S-stop.”

Bull stops. Again, he puts space between them, but he doesn’t let go of James’ cock.

James puts his hands on Bull’s easing himself free of Bull’s grip. “You’re--I--Need a minute.”

Bull smiles again, like he knows what effect he has on James. "I want to get to know  _you_ , James. I want to peel back all these layers and learn who you are." He growls, noses James' neck. "But let's find the bedroom first." 

James nods, not trusting himself to speak without a squeak, and almost trips over his pants as he tries to take a step. He manages to keep his balance and not face plant the floor. He pulls his pants up, holding them with one hand as they wander through the apartment. It’s the kind of place James would whistle at, poke at all the buttons just to see what they do, but he’s on a mission. He has to stay focussed. He focuses on Bull’s ass as Bull pokes his head through all the doors, looking for the bedroom.

Finally, a bed. James pulls of the rest of his clothes, toes his boots off. He’s not so far gone that he forgets to fold everything. In the time it takes him to get undressed, Bull’s already naked, lying on the bed, one leg cocked up. Everything about him says ‘come hither’. James doesn’t give a second thought. He climbs onto the bed, climbs onto Bull, and sees exactly what Bull’s packing. _Holy hell_. His mouth waters. Bull’s hands settle on James’ thighs, grey on tan. They share a grin.

“I don’t have any condoms,” James says. He looks down at Bull’s cock again. “Didn’t think I’d be doing this when I read my orders…”

Bull’s laugh is a low rumble. “Me either. We’ll manage.” And he gathers James up in his arms, their bodies pressed together, cocks hard. Damn, Bull smells good. Feels good. James kisses his neck. Tastes good, too. He starts grinding on Bull’s lap, digging his fingertips into muscle, kissing and nipping. Bull reciprocates and James finds himself falling backwards, his legs kicked out from under him and he’s on his back, Bull looming over him, shifting one of James’ arms so it’s resting above his head. James’ other arm follows and a low rumble comes from Bull as he closes one hand over both of James’, pinning him.

“You want this to last?” Bull asks.

“Uh huh.”

Bull’s grin is wicked and James gasps as cock is wrapped up in Bull’s other hand. He arches his back and tries to twist out, almost manages it, too, but Bull leans his weight forward, keeping James’ hands where they are above his head. He doesn’t want to admit how hot this is, to be this exposed with someone he only met this morning.

“Let’s see how long you can last, then.”

Shit, Bull is an _artist_. He teases and tantalises, bringing James to the edge with a rough tenderness, so attentive. He peels the layers off James, that's for sure. He reads James' cues like an edition of Fornax, and James is kinda embarrassed about how he easy he is. But when Bull does this, when he kisses James hard, or rubs his thumb over the head of James' cock, or rolls his balls in his hand, James can't bring himself to be too embarrassed. And when he doesn't get something quite right, when he's too hard, or too sharp, and James hisses, he backs off, kisses instead, rolls and rubs. And when James is about to come--he says it, he's says he gonna come but he says he doesn't want to, not yet--Bull lets go. And James moans with relief and agony.

So Bull builds him up and breaks him down, again and again, until finally James has had enough and wrenches himself free. He twists, gets his hands out, then his knee up and rolls the two of them so their positions are reversed. James looks down, his hands on Bull’s horns. So he’s got Bull’s head in place but Bull’s arms are free and Bull takes advantage, running his hands up James’ side, not soft enough to tickle, but enough to make James flinch.

“Give me a chance, no?” James says.

Bull lets his hands flop down. “I’m all yours.”

James grins. He still can’t really believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening. He should’ve stuck to the mission brief he’d been given that morning, but when your boots hit the ground, parameters change, and a good N7 adapts to the situation to achieve the objective. He’s pretty sure this counts as ‘promoting the Council in a positive way.’ He looks down between them, sees their cocks. He sits up, letting his hands trail over Bull’s body, over his pecs and belly, over scars all knotted and twisted. He wonders what life’s like for a merc over in Thedas, wonders what their armour is like, their healthcare. Probably don’t have insurance. He shakes away the thought of bureaucracy and he focuses on the matter in hand. Bull’s cock. It’s… it’s in proportion, that’s for sure. James wraps his hand around it. It’s smooth, hard, warm. Feels good, man, feels real good. He takes his time with Bull, the way Bull took his time with James, only James doesn’t quite have the same instinct as Bull.

“Tell me how you like it,” James says.

He’s expecting the usual: harder, softer, faster. Like James, before. But Bull tells him, guides him, talks him through exactly how he likes to be touched. It’s hot being talked to like this, being told what to do and hearing, feeling Bull react when he gets it right. At some point Bull gets his hand on James’ cock but James can’t think clearly enough to give as nuanced guidance as Bull, so he sticks to single words until he can’t even manage that.

They’re stoking each other, moaning and panting, and their orgasms aren’t quite coordinated--first James, then Bull--but coming is a blessed relief. James feels like he’s been holding it in all day and now the pressure’s been let off. Their come mingles between them and James stares at it. Maybe he was expecting something different, but Bull’s come is just as silky and milky as James’. He can’t actually believe this has happened. He laughs. Loud and easy.

“That was…” he says.

“Just the start?” Bull finishes.

“Shit. You’re something else.”

Bull hardly gives James a chance to catch his breath before he’s rolling them again, smearing cooling come all over the sheets, and building James up once more.

They go through the night, taking turns to kiss and grope and learn as much about each other’s bodies as they can. They don’t limit themselves to the bed either, taking every chance they have to defile as much of the furniture as possible. And yeah, James gets to hang onto Bull’s horns again. They snooze here and there, wake up half hard and ready for more. They’ve just finished round… whatever--James lost count ages ago--and he’s just flopped down, hot skin sticking to the cool sheet when in the half light, Bull leans over.

“Hey, James. How’s this been for building positive relationships?”

James snorts.

Bull lies back, too. Their hands find each other’s, and that’s how they fall asleep. Finally.

*

James wakes way too early. His muscles ache, his body sticky. His mouth is all gross, so he stops himself from thinking about waking Bull up for another round. He gets up instead, trying not to grunt as he picks up his uniform. Damn, he hasn’t had sex like that in a long time. He stops and thinks. No, he’s _never_ had sex like that.

Somewhere in the apartment he finds an ironing board and iron. He gets his dress blues looking sharp enough and hangs them up. Then he makes coffee, two cups, and hopes Bull is awake.

Bull’s sitting up in bed, staring out the massive window. He turns when James comes in.

“You been treated to Earth’s finest delicacy yet?” James asks.

“Yeah, I had him all night long.” Bull draws out the last three words and James’ cheeks heat up at both the compliment and the joke. He passes the coffee over and climbs in. Bull takes a sip of the coffee. “Damn, this _is_ good. A close second.”

They sit and watch the Citadel’s fake sun rise. James shuffles closer to Bull, making look it like he’s adjusting his balls. Bull clearly sees through it, slinging his arm around James. James is such a sap. He knows it and he hates it. He can’t help it though. Always falling for the wrong person. He leans into Bull, smiling, his sweat-sticky shoulder warm against Bull’s side. Whatever this is, he’s going to bask in it for as long as it lasts.

Rumbling stomachs ruin the moment.

“You want breakfast?” James asks.

“You offering?” Bull asks.

James pats Bull’s thigh over the sheet. “I’ll sort you out.”

The kitchen is well stocked. No doubt the dignitaries were supposed to be back for dinner in their own apartments and given the opportunity to try different foods on their own without insulting anyone if they didn’t like the Milky Way’s spread. He finds an apron, slips it on--no point getting a grease burn in an embarrassing place--and sets to work with what he’s got. At some point Bull comes through and watches. He’s got those pants on but not the harness. He drinks more coffee and keeps looking in the mug, nodding.

A half hour later, James serves up huevos rancheros, more or less.

“Shit, James, this looks amazing,” Bull says.

They talk and eat, James rambling about growing up in California and his abuela's cooking. The words come so easily. He should be wary of what he says, he’s talking to a spy after all, but Bull is so easy to talk to. Anyway, it’s not like he’s giving away Alliance secrets. Just his abuela's huevos rancheros recipe. So, pretty classified, but he thinks he can trust Bull with this intel.

Once he’s done, he pushes his plate back. “I should get a shower and get going. Walk of shame time.”

Bull looks confused so James elaborates, and now Bull nods sagely, says he knows exactly what James means, but adds there’s no shame in enjoying pleasure.

*

They time their exit of the apartment so no one gets suspicious. Or, that’s the idea. James goes down to the Presidium, taking a long ambling route, and gets another coffee from a hole-in-the-wall. He drinks slowly, with a thousand yard stare, reliving the previous day and night. Holy hell. No one’s gonna believe him. He’s not gonna tell anyone.

When he’s back up at the Council chambers, Bull’s there too, with his shirt on. Councillor Holira gives James a tight smile and redirects her attention to the Turian and the dwarf. James wanders up to Bull, casual, no big deal.

“Morning,” Bull says. “Sleep well?”

“Got a little crick in my neck,” James replies. He rolls his neck, joints popping, just to prove that he’s telling the truth.

Bull chuckles and James feels it low in his chest. “You know, I met this guy during my tour yesterday and he introduced me to coffee. I was thinking I needed another. You want to show me where I can get one?”

James tries not to smirk as he tilts his head. There’s a coffee machine in the corner of the room. It won’t be as good as the coffee James made this morning, but it would be passable. While they’re there, James comes up with a ridiculous plan to cause a distraction so Bull can sneak the bag of beans into his circus pants.

“Why go to all that trouble when you can just bring it when you come through?” Bull asks.

“Uh, come again?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know? Yesterday was all about showing us around your world, or part of it, anyway. Next week, you guys get to come through to our world and see how we all live in peace and harmony. You should really read your mission briefs in more detail.”

James grins from ear to ear. Yeah, maybe this diplomacy thing isn’t so bad after all.


End file.
